“You were lucky—very lucky.” Kenton glanced at the cosh Charles had retrieved from behind the chaise. “If your skull wasn’t so thick, I doubt you’d be with us enough to groan.”
Jack grimaced; he bore with the doctor’s fussing, but signaled to Charles the instant Kenton’s back was turned.
If Jack was up to making such faces, he was at least in possession of his wits; Charles eased the doctor from his patient’s side and bore him away.
Fifteen minutes later, Gervase returned, grim-faced. They gathered again in the library as they had hours earlier; this time, both Jack and Nicholas looked the worse for wear, pale and drawn, both in pain, Jack from his head, Nicholas from the shoulder wound Fothergill’s blow had reopened.
They took it in turns to relate their story. Penny described how Fothergill had arrived, how he’d seemed so innocent to begin with, and how that had changed—how he’d incapacitated Jack, then used her to force Nicholas to do his bidding. She stopped at the point where Charles had appeared at the bedchamber door. She looked at him, sprawled beside her on the chaise. “How did you know to return?”
“I shouldn’t have left.” He looked grim. “We were galloping toward Fowey when the penny dropped. Dennis’s cousin couldn’t have had any direct connection with our nemesis; the knife and cloak were stage dressing to ensure I connected the death with the intruder here and raced off to investigate, presumably so something could then happen here. I turned back. Gervase went on to see if there was anything we could learn from Sid Garnut’s death.”
Gervase shifted restlessly. “Other than being proof beyond doubt that our man—Fothergill as we now know—is cold-bloodedly callous, there wasn’t anything more to be learned.” He paused, then added, “The boy had been dispatched with almost contemptuous efficiency. Fothergill, or whoever he really is, feels nothing for those he kills.”
Penny quelled a shiver. Charles took up the tale of what had transpired in the master bedchamber. He abbreviated the proceedings, stating only the necessary facts. He’d just reached the point at which Fothergill went out of the window when the crunch of approaching hooves reached them.
Charles rose and looked out. “One of my grooms. Looks like Dalziel has unearthed something.”
He strode out, reappearing two minutes later, one of the now familiar plain packets in his hand. He went to the desk and slit it open; unfolding the sheets, he returned to the chaise.
Swiftly scanning, he grimaced. “Dalziel writes that while they still haven’t cleared Gerond, the Julian Fothergill who’s a connection of Culver’s wife is a twenty-year-old with pale blond hair who, according to his mother, is presently on a walking tour of the Lake District with friends. He is, however, a budding ornithologist.”
Charles glanced at Gervase, then Jack.
Who humphed. “Other than the hair color and a few years, he had all the rest right.”
“Not only that, he used it to best advantage,” Charles said. “No one’s surprised to find an avid bird-watcher marching over their land.”
“How was it that Culver didn’t realize?” Gervase asked. “If our man’s been staying there pretending to be one of the family, surely the usual questions about Aunt Ermintrude or whoever would have tripped him up.”
“Not necessarily.” Charles glanced at Penny. “If the family’s as large as Dalziel suggests, then it’s always possible he truly is a member, just not that member, not of an English branch.”
“And Culver would never notice,” Penny said. “Aside from all else, the Fothergills are his wife’s connections, and with the best will in the world I doubt his lordship remembers his own connections. If this man hadn’t remembered Aunt Ermintrude, Culver would have thought he himself had got things wrong—he’s awfully disconnected.”
“He’s a true recluse,” Charles said, “but a terribly correct one.”
“What’s more,” Penny added, “his reclusiveness is well-known.”
Looking up at the ceiling, Jack sighed. “I just can’t get over how glibly he took me in. I was on guard when he walked in, but by the time he got behind me, I’d started to relax, to believe he was as harmless as he appeared.” He grimaced. “He was so damned English.”
Charles regarded him wryly. “Now you understand how I survived so long in France. No matter how alert and on guard one is, the eyes see what they see, and we react accordingly.”
Penny remembered her earlier thought; Fothergill was indeed a Charles-in-reverse.
“Regardless,” Charles said, “we can’t afford to sit back and reflect. He had a horse waiting. If he wasn’t worried about being identified, then he was ready to leave this area. If his mission is to punish the Selbornes and retrieve some of the pill- and snuffboxes, having failed here, where will he head next?”
Already pale, Nicholas turned a ghastly hue. “He’ll go after my father.”
“Where is he?” Gervase asked.
“London—Amberly House in Mayfair.” Nicholas struggled to get up.
Charles waved him back. “If we’re right, he can’t kill your father, not out of hand. He’ll know by now that he has no chance of laying his hands on the pillboxes—we’re not going to leave them here unguarded, and besides, he didn’t get you to show him how to open the panel.”
“Overconfident.” Gervase nodded. “But it does mean he won’t bother coming back here.”
“It also means,” Charles said, looking at Nicholas, “that he’ll feel compelled to get to thesnuffboxes. You said they’re at Amberly Grange, in Berkshire, in a priest hole much like the one here. Fothergill might not know of the priest hole, but he’ll now suspect something of the sort—some well-hidden chamber that only your father or you can open.”
“That’s why he won’t kill your pater outright.” Jack narrowed his eyes consideringly. “If I were he, I’d go to Amberly Grange, to where the snuffboxes are, and wait—use the time until Amberly returns there to learn the lay of the land, even ingratiate my way into the household, or at least into a position of being able to gain access to the house.” He glanced around at them all. “There’s no time limit applying for him, and the only pressure he knows of is that Charles now knows who he is and presumably will be searching for him.”